


I Am a Heart That's Full of Life

by neverfaraway



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Even Though He Doesn't Deserve One, First Time, M/M, Pining, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 17:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13299672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverfaraway/pseuds/neverfaraway
Summary: "I've known a few flyboys in my time, most of them trigger-happy, all of them fools. It's practically a term of endearment."Poe Dameron needs to face up to the consequences of his insubordination. Finn tries to fix things, because that's what Finn was trained to do.





	1. Poe

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic came about because I initially wrote a character-study drabble for Poe, wherein our hero spent 100 words glowering sexily at the universe through a spaceship window. Then the rest of the story happened and became a fix-it for The Last Jedi and the Millennium Falcon has windows in the wrong place. So Rey had to steal a cruiser? I genuinely DEK.
> 
> If Rian Johnson can kill off everyone I know and love (well, ok, Admiral Ackbar) and get away with it, I can have my stolen cruiser, and Poe Dameron can develop a capacity for self-reflection.

Life is so much dark and light  
When day cannot exist without a night  
And you are not separate from me  
I am a heart that's full of life  
\- _Two Planets_ , Bat for Lashes

1- Poe

The galaxy has never seemed vast and unknowable, not to him, so it's an ugly punch in the gut, to find himself gazing out the window of a stolen cruiser at an unfamiliar sector of the Outer Rim, while around him the tattered, limping fleet is heavy with the silence of the empty command deck. The expanse of stars and space has always been his home - his playground and his sanctuary. Now, as he stares out the window, the expanse stares back. The stars are baleful strangers, mutely accusing and passing silent judgement.

His bones feel heavy, his head aches. Running has meant no time to see to their dead. Bodies will become so much debris, spinning aimlessly amongst the wreckage of the fleet. Poe hopes Ackbar spins right into a path of a sun, burns up in a better fire than the one that would have been owed to him by the Resistance.

Somewhere out there, at evacuation points and on safe, out-of-the-way moons, must be remnants of fighter squadrons and agents with the good luck to have been out on missions during the evacuation of D'Qar. If they make it to the rendezvous, together they will constitute something approaching a sixth of the Resistance's fighter force. Jess and Snap and the others might be among them. The _silence_ , the not knowing, until the Falcon can reach their destination and send out a homing signal, might just kill Poe in the meantime.

Finn and Rey huddle in a corner of the flight deck, so close they might as well want to climb inside one another, while BB-8 wobbles excitedly nearby. When Poe closes his eyes, he sees a thousand rocks tumbling and spinning in the air, as though they were no more than droplets of water and Rey had merely dashed her hand through the landslide the way young pilots flicked water at each other in the showers at the Academy. Standing there with her hands outstretched, the Force pouring out of her like a waterfall, no wonder Finn looked at her like she was the reason the suns rose and the moons set. 

Finn's eyes are greedy for her face, as though he still can't believe his luck that she's cheated the whole of the First Order in order to come back to him. Poe's view of the hostile galaxy is, on balance, preferable.  


"I've known a few flyboys in my time," Leia says, as her hand descends on Poe's shoulder. In the harsh light of the flight deck array there are lines etched deeply at the corners of her mouth and her eyes are bloodshot with fatigue; Poe has never really considered her _old_ , but this new, unforgiving weariness makes it impossible not to. "most of them trigger-happy, all of them fools. It's practically a term of endearment."

Poe ought to resent her for humouring him, but as always he is powerless to resist rolling over for her approval. He smiles despite himself.

"Don't get up," she says, lowering herself into the seat beside him. "And give me some of that whisky. You get blown out of your ship and suddenly everyone treats you like an old lady."

Poe hands over his flask. Export-strength Corellian whisky; stashed by Han at some point, no doubt, and discovered by BB-8 behind a circuit panel during the transfer from the Falcon. "No, ma'am, most of us wouldn't dare."

"Long may that continue." She toasts him and takes a swig, grimacing. "Han always did have some unreconstructed tastes."

Poe takes back the flask and raises it, but Han's name sticks behind his teeth and the toast refuses to shake loose.

"Rey's a good kid," Leia says, throwing a pointed glance over Poe's shoulder. "And that boy of yours has been through things you and I can't even imagine. Your brooding vigil will keep, you know."

It tastes like blood at the back of his throat, to have to swallow his words before they can tumble out, too sharp and too hot to be forgiven. Leia is his superior, not his mother, not his friend. It's always killed him to hold his tongue. He hears his father's exasperation: _Can't always go blast the heck out of some swamp grass when someone says something to rile you up, kiddo._

"They don't need me spoiling the reunion," he says; Leia's expression tells him his tone was less than successfully free of self-pity. He loathes himself with perfect clarity. Besides, _he's not_ \- 

"Don't shut yourself off; it might feel like it helps, believe me, I know - "

"Please don't take this the wrong way, General - "

"I know, I know - you do what you need to do. But at some point, you need to let someone get inside that head of yours. And, before you say it, no, the droid doesn't count," she adds.

Poe's head aches; he hopes the hand he raises to his forehead covers his eyes. "It's been a long couple days," he mutters.

"You think it's been easy," Leia says, more sharply than Poe expected. "You think I haven't had my work cut out arguing against putting you up on court martial? You'd deserve it - and I think, I _hope_ , you know that. You think I have enough of a Resistance left, to go throwing my best pilot in the brig?" 

"General - " He gapes at her, heat creeping up the back of his neck. She's dropped the smile now, along with any pretence of humouring him.

"I forgive your impulsivity - your recklessness - because I've never questioned your commitment. And, force help me, you remind me of myself at your age." The hand on his shoulder moves to the side of his face; she cups his cheek in a gesture he recalls from childhood, the eight half-remembered years on Yavin IV. She doesn't need words to remind him that she knew his parents, that she has fought harder and longer than he has been alive. He feels sick with shame. "But don't you dare feel sorry for yourself for the fact that you survived. You want command, you take responsibility for your failures and the lives they cost." 

He doesn't have an answer for her. He ducks away from Leia's hand and hears her sigh. 

"Get some sleep. I'm calling a command meeting in five hours."

She leaves him; with his eyes closed, Poe allows himself a moment of honesty about the depth and consequences of his arrogance. His head aches and the whisky has turned sour in his stomach. He might as well go and find a bedroll and somewhere to crash, though he doubts any one of them will find sleep easily tonight.


	2. Rey

"We're both here," Rey whispers through her smile, afraid to say it too loud in case the illusion shatters and hull of the cruiser crumbles away and she is still on the island, trapped there to weather Luke's silence and his disapproval. "And we're both alive."

She regrets being so open in her happiness when it is Finn's smile that collapses instead. She must remember to be more careful now that Finn has found and lost unknown numbers of people he has called teammates. Friends. 

"No, no," he says, when she tries to apologise. He smiles - he has the kindest smile, all at the eyes, which Rey is learning to know means it is true - and grasps her hand. "We should be glad. We're here, and we're so, so lucky. So many people - "

"I know," she says, "I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I'm sorry I didn't stop him."

Finn's smile is sad and still so kind. "We should both stop apologising. And - I can't even pretend to know anything about him - _Ren_ \- but I can - feel? Sense?- how much he hurt you. I hate that."

"I don't want to talk about it now." She presses her face into his shoulder. "I will. But, just know for now that - he might have hurt me, but he made me stronger, too."

"Okay."

BB-8 beeps and rolls closer, nudging Rey's knee with its dome. Rey smiles at it. "Thanks, BB."

The cruiser's main cabin is only dimly lit, to encourage those able to sleep to do so. After they had all piled into the Falcon on Crait, Chewbacca had flown them to the shadow of a nearby orange moon, and Rey had revealed the cruiser she had stolen from the fractured flight deck of the _Supremacy_ , fully-fueled and loaded with unknown goods, some of which could be jettisoned to make her lighter and faster. After the disastrous race to Crait, it was agreed that what remained of the Resistance could ill afford to travel in one ship and, in any case, while spacious, the Falcon was less than suitable for transporting passengers in its hold, despite being the most manoeuvrable of the ships, so Chewbacca, Commander D'Acy, Lieutenant Connix, and two of the remaining technical crew had taken her, full of supplies, at lightspeed towards the rendezvous point in the Outer Rim. The rest of them had found room for themselves and the remainder of the supplies in the newly-emptied cruiser and set off in pursuit.

As Rey gazes around the cruiser's cabin, members of the Resistance avoid her gaze. At first, anxiety had clouded their thoughts when their eyes passed over the broken lightsaber, so she had tucked it into the folds of her blanket. She hadn't wanted to leave this last remnant of Luke behind on the _Supremacy_ , but now she wonders at such pointless sentimentality, when home and friends and everything she needed was here, all along.

 _Not everything_ , an insidious whisper at the very edge of her awareness of the Force warns, _not everyone_.

Her gaze falls on Leia, a small figure still in battle dress, seated at the window beside Finn's pilot friend. _Poe Dameron_ ; she rolls the name around a few times in her head and finds she likes it. She has heard plenty about him from BB-8 and from Finn, but this tired, angry man is not at all what she had been imagining. She watches Leia lay a tender hand upon his cheek and looks away, discomfited. This Poe Dameron is given Leia's gentle words and hands upon him, when her son has forsaken any right to feel either again. It will not do to feel sorry for Ren; her heart is heavy, despite knowing this.

Finn, she notices, has not followed her gaze, and instead worries at the sleeve of his shirt, twisting and untwisting it between anxious fingers. He has been preoccupied since the transfer of the Resistance's wounded into the cruiser's crowded loading bay. 

"How's your friend?" she asks, with care. It is unusual to choose words as though she were picking her way across stepping stones in a stream, but not uncomfortable; she senses Finn's anxiety and wants to soothe it. She lays a hand upon his arm. "They said she'd be well by the time we get to the Outer Rim."

"Well might be optimistic, but she's doing ok, I think." 

BB8 whistles sadly.

"You care about her."

"She saved my life," Finn says, and then, quietly, "She kissed me. On Crait. After she saved my life."

Rey tries carefully not to throw a quizzical glance at the man slumped alone, now, by the window. It might not be unlikely for her to have made a mistake; after all, what does she know about these things?

"Is that... a good thing?" she hazards.

Finn shrugs, his mouth turned down in a way Rey dislikes. "It's - it's a _confusing_ thing. I don't know what I'll say when we get to wherever we're going. If she's still - " he falls silent and Rey makes sure her hand on his is firm and comforting, showing him that she will be his support, should he require it of her.

By the window, Poe Dameron lurches to his feet; it seems unlikely for a pilot to be so ungainly, but she has read the exhaustion in the faces of many of the Resistance fighters and so she moves her legs to allow him space to pass, wishing him peaceful sleep if he can come by it. 

As he passes, however, there is a very un-peaceful feeling rolling from Poe Dameron, even though the face he turns towards the three of them is carefully, neutrally arranged; Rey narrows her eyes at what she now perceives to be an adequate liar. 

"I'm beat," Poe announces as he nears them, avoiding Rey's critical eye. "You coming or staying, BB?" BB-8 rolls in an indecisive circle, but Poe seems reluctant to wait, even as Finn tries to scramble to his feet. "Well, see you in a few. Have fun, kids."

With a confused whine, BB-8 takes off at Poe's heels; it has to spin and skitter after him as he strides down the corridor.

"What does it feel like, to love someone?" Rey asks quietly, when Poe has turned the corner and disappeared from view.

"Like breaking the rules," Finn murmurs, a frown on his face. Then he blushes, looks at his hands. "I mean, it was for me, at first. Not - I should see if Poe - "

Rey pats Finn gently on the arm; she wishes she could be like Leia and show him how much he is valued, how happy she is to be reunited. But she is unused to affection, to the idea of sharing such feelings, even with people she has come to consider family.

She smiles at him. "Go."


	3. Finn

Finn is fast enough, and the cruiser small enough, that he catches the end of BB-8's chittering as he hurries after them and is able to follow Poe to a room they have used for storing supplies; it would have been an officer's quarters, Finn recognises distantly, with that sense of dissonance he has felt since they escaped the First Order and transferred onto this stolen ship. Someone has piled sleeping mats and blankets on the empty bed frame and Poe in digging through it, extracting a rolled mat and rummaging for a blanket. Something about the scene, Poe's turned back and hunched shoulders, is alarming him, but he doesn't know what the problem is, or how to fix it. Fixing things used to be one of his better talents.

"Poe?" he says, uncertainly, watching as Poe discards a blanket for being too small and selects a more promising candidate. His shoulders drop and he sighs, and Finn wishes he knew why.

"Hey, buddy." Poe turns; he is smiling, but not in the way that Finn loves to see, with his eyes small and his mouth wide. His eyes are sad and serious and he smells, Finn realises, like whisky, which Finn has never tried. He supposes it's not appropriate to think he'd lick the taste of it straight out of Poe's mouth, if he offered. "Gonna try and get some sleep; long day tomorrow, plans to make."

"Where are you sleeping?" Finn asks, then wonders whether that's acceptable, either - on the _Raddus_ he'd been hooked up in his strange, flexpoly bacta suit so long he hadn't needed accommodation. He'd never given thought to how sleeping quarters might be arranged under ordinary circumstances; he's learned to assume that 'bunks, like on the _Finalizer_ ' is probably not the correct answer. 

Poe sighs again. "Wherever there's room. There're a couple of storage bays that might not have been claimed - until we draw up an allocation, I'll try there."

"Can I come, too?"

Poe's face is so impassive it makes Finn nervous. He's not used to Poe's features sitting so still when Poe is looking at him. "Sure. Though, there might only be space for you and Rey, so I'll just bed down on the flight deck."

"You won't get any sleep there," Finn says, concerned. "Anyway, Rey and Leia - General Organa - they've got some talking to do, so we probably won't see her for a while."

Poe sighs again, seeming to deflate. "'Course they do. Just us two, huh?" Something is broken, but how can Finn fix it if he doesn't know what it is? "Well, help yourself," Poe says, indicating the supplies. "You'll need a mat and a blanket, if you're happy using your jacket for a pillow."

Finn grabs the first of the mats and the blankets and follows Poe down a short corridor towards a series of identical, open storage bays, each one with a square mouth half the height of the corridor and with enough space inside for at least four men to lie side-by-side. Finn knows now that Poe lied about there not being room for the two of them and Rey; he's not sure Poe has lied to him before.

The light inside the cargo bays is dim and softly green; it illuminates Poe's face in interesting ways as they crawl inside and spread out the bedding, but it also makes the shadows beneath his eyes deeper, carving lines beside his mouth where it is downturned in the opposite of a smile.

BB-8 rolls in after them and begins inspecting a power conduit, jabbing at it with its little metal arms.

"C'mon, BB," Poe says, sounding exasperated. "You remember what happened on Fondor. No hostile circuitry until we've had the system swept."

BB8 gives a shrill series of indignant beeps.

"Have it your way. If I didn't know better I'd think you liked getting debugged."

The droid ignores him, sticks one of its arms directly into a socket and pointedly powers down.

Poe sets out his bed, taking off his jacket, bundling it and shoving it beneath his head. Finn does the same and by the time he has settled himself, Poe has turned onto his side, his back a long, straight line. Finn realises, looking at Poe's back and the way it moves beneath his blanket as he breathes, that they are still wearing the sweat- and salt-stained clothes they had been wearing when they clambered out of the caves on Crait.

"Listen, buddy," Poe says, without turning over. "I'm glad you got Rey back. She's great."

"Thanks. Almost as good a pilot as you, huh?" Finn adds, with a sly smile.

"Almost? Well, I'll take that." 

They lie in silence for a long moment. Finn wonders how long it will be until they reach the Outer Rim. His ignorance on Canto Bight had made him ashamed. Travel between sectors of the galaxy had always happened while Finn was occupied with other things, on the _Finalizer_. He'd be cleaning a transport bay on Kamino, and then he'd be re-fitting a ventilation grate and they'd be orbiting Subterrel. Astro-nav had never been his strong-suit during training; he wonders whether BB-8 will be able to show him a projection of the sector they're making for, just in case the worst should happen and he crash lands on any more strange planets in the near future. It would be nice to know how far from home he is.

"Finn?" Poe says, and Finn doesn't have the reference to be able to read his tone; he sounds like he's forcing the words through clenched teeth. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry."

He doesn't elaborate on what exactly he is sorry for, but Finn doesn't like the idea that Poe is blaming himself for the fact they're bunking in a stolen ship. "Hey, me too. I'm sorry your plan didn't work. For what it's worth, it was a good plan - just wish I'd found us a better codebreaker."

"I sent you to Canto Bight and got you captured," Poe says, disbelieving.

"And you were amazing when it came to the fight on Crait. If I'd got to that canon - "

"You would have died," Poe says, turning over to stare at him. "You'd be dead now. Is that what you wanted?"

Finn blinks. Would he prefer having died, to lying here with Poe, even if he is in this strange, brittle mood? "It's not about that. Someone had to stop the attack, and I had a chance."

"No one would expect that of you," Poe snaps. "In the Resistance, we're strong because everyone is of value - "

"Yeah, and I chose to play my part. Just like all your pilots climbing into their X-Wings every day. Just like Holdo."

Poe's face goes still again, his mouth a thin, flat line, and Finn knows he's said the wrong thing, curses himself for his mouth working faster than his brain.

"Poe - "

Poe shifts onto his side, his face hidden once more. "Finn. I lost a lot of friends today. I'm very tired."

Finn turns onto his back and frowns at the ceiling. He knows, _knows_ , that that tone means _stop, leave me alone, enough_ , but he owes Poe at least one attempt at piecing together the broken parts of their mission, and everything that has gone wrong since. 

"In the First Order," he says softly, "when someone died - one of us troopers, I mean - there just used to be an empty bunk for a while, and then someone fresh out of training would take their place, and it'd be like that dead Stormtrooper never existed. It's better here, the way you do things. It's good to be remembered."

Poe does not reply. Finn clenches his fist, wishing he were able to crush this new, unwelcome silence between them.

Finn wakes, he has no idea how long he's been asleep - there is no way to mark the passage of time in the dim, green space of the cargo bay, but the ship is now quiet, and Finn imagines most of the crew are snatching what little, exhausted sleep they can. When he turns to Poe, he is horrified to see that the long shape of Poe beneath the blanket is shivering - he is about to reach over and spread his own blanket over both of them, when he remembers, vaguely, that during training, a boy who had cried while everyone ought to have been asleep had one night simply been an empty bunk, too. 

He tugs gently at Poe's shoulder and Poe allows himself, after only token resistance, to be rolled onto his back. It looks like Poe hasn't slept at all; his eyes are red-rimmed from staring at the wall, the look in them one of utter desolation. Finn wants to look away, but he knows he can't. This is a gift, even if it is an terrible one, something Poe has not shown to anyone else; not to General Organa, or BB-8. Poe closes his eyes, as though he is ashamed of sharing this, and Finn has spent enough time of his own trying not to feel, trying to swallow the night-time rush of terror and horror and regret. 

Finn is grasping at the edges of the broken thing - if he can just work out, just find the thing to do, the thing to say, maybe Poe will be himself again. "You know I love you, right?" he whispers, wondering how Poe could possibly have missed it, but perhaps the broken thing, after all, is him and his understanding of what is and is not allowed. "Am I not supposed to?"

Poe kisses him, probably to stop him talking, and wraps a hand around the back of his skull, fingers strong and insistent, hauling him in. His tongue is in Finn's mouth and his arms are pulling Finn to him, leaving Finn to wrestle a hand free and grasp a handful of Poe's sweaty hair. 

This isn't the way he imagined it would happen, he thinks vaguely, as Poe pushes a thigh between his knees and rolls him so that he's on his back on the cold floor, Poe's fingers cradling his head the only thing between him and a concussion. In some important ways - Poe above him, around him, dragging noises out of him that he wasn't even sure he knew how to make - it's identical, but when Finn has guiltily thought about how this might go, he's imagined an incongruous sunny day on a peaceful, green planet, Poe laughing breathlessly into his mouth, and himself joining in, licking the smile right off Poe's beautiful, smirking face.

He reaches for the hem of Poe's shirt, wanting to get his fingers on skin, and is thrilled when Poe's spine arches beneath his palms. He grins, tries to tell Poe how amazing each new sensation is, but Poe catches his bottom lip between his teeth and then sucks at it, soothing the swollen skin with his tongue; Finn's head hits the floor and he doesn't even care.

"You want this?" Poe asks, looking him in the eye without the hint of a smile. Finn nods, but Poe still seems hesitant, so he leans up to kiss him, licking the taste of sweat and salt from the corner of his jaw. 

Poe makes quick work of the zippers on their suits, pushes his hands onto Finn's skin, sucking bruises into his throat. Finn writhes against him when he spits into his palm and wraps it around the length of them both. Poe is panting into the damp skin above his collarbone, working his hand fast between them and Finn has never felt anything this viscerally fantastic before, so good he feels it in his bones. He buries his hands in Poe's hair, rocks his hips into the heat of Poe's grip and lets go completely to the sound of Poe muttering his name, over and over; Poe follows him, shuddering and pressing his open mouth into Finn's neck.

They lie there gasping, Poe's leg still wedged between his thighs, while Finn strokes his fingers through the damp curls at the base of Poe's neck.

"I screwed up," Poe mutters into the skin behind Finn's ear. "People are dead because I didn't follow orders, and the Resistance - "

"We're here, we're alive," Finn says, nudging Poe to lie alongside him, sweaty and filthy and breathing hard into the close air of the storage bay. "The rest - we'll deal with it tomorrow. C'mere, you need to sleep."

He folds himself along Poe's side, pulls the blankets over them. The storage bay is warm, now, and the two of them must look ridiculous, huddled on a single sleeping mat, breathing each other's air. Somewhere on the ship, Rose is still breathing, too. He thinks being able to count his friends off, one by one, and know that they are safe, is what he means when he imagines an idea like 'home'.

Poe's comm beeps.

"Command meeting," Poe murmurs, his voice gravelly.

"Who needs sleep, anyway?" Finn groans. "We - uh - we should probably clean up."

"Yeah, good luck with that. We all smell like bantha, anyway - until everyone's been through the fresher, this'll have to do." He peels off his own filthy shirt and tosses it in Finn's direction. 

With a series of beeps, BB-8 powers up and disengages itself from the wall socket. It spins for a second as though testing its rotation, and then looks between them, its dome swivelling curiously back and forth. Finn turns away hurriedly and makes sure he's tucked back into his pants, wiping his stomach with Poe's balled-up shirt.

"Yeah, yeah," Poe says, when BB-8 lets loose a stream of high-pitched whistles. "Good morning to you, too. Find anything useful in there? Schematics? Nice, can you patch them through to the command array?"

BB-8 chirps an affirmative and rolls out into the hallway ahead of them, warbling something that makes Poe chuckle.

"Thanks," Poe says, when Finn hands him the shirt. He grimaces as he wipes himself down, then slips on his jacket and pulls up the zip. "Listen, things are gonna be pretty bad for a while. Leia's halfway to having me thrown out an airlock."

"Well, she's going have a fight on her hands with both of us."

Poe smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He wraps the fingers of one hand around Finn's wrist and holds him in place. "Thanks, man, for everything."

Finn pulls him closer, so he can crowd him again the wall, liking the way Poe's head falls back, the way his hand fit so perfectly to bracket Poe's hips and hold him there. He kisses him, copying Poe's move and licking his mouth open.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a quick study?" Poe says, breathless.

Finn shrugs. "Given the right motivation."

This time Poe's smile is wide and pleased; he looks a little dazed by his own good fortune, in a way that makes Finn want to crowd him back into the storage bay and keep him there until they reach their destination.

He becomes somber again as they approach the flight deck and catches Finn's arm again before they enter. "Hey, you know how I feel about you, right?"

Finn raises an eyebrow. "Like you're breaking all the rules?"

Inside, Leia and the remaining officers are already studying BB-8's projection of the ship schematics. Rey glances up and offers them a cautious smile.

Poe smiles ruefully. "Yeah, you got that right."


End file.
